


Don't Wait for Me

by sleepingseeker



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Complete, Death, Forgiveness, Grief, Hope, Loss, Reuniting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief makes us say things that should never be spoken. The damage it creates flows outward - when turned inward, the damage becomes catastrophic. One brother leaves and another follows, each haunted by their own grief; their own fears. </p><p>This dark little story was inspired, by a song. A haunting lullaby that won't let me be. Nominated in the 2013 SS competition for Best Short Work/One Shot. Written and posted on FFN June 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Wait for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that beautiful and haunting song, Don't Wait for Me, by Josh Garrels

 

The steel rails stretched out in all directions from left to right and for what seemed miles ahead. Though that couldn't be right. 

No, the packing warehouses and the docks ahead framed the horizon with grey shapes and the rank smell of fecund sea water and gutted fish. If he listened hard enough he could hear the tolling bells from the ships and boats and the sounds of the multitudes of gulls crying out. Their collective piercing cry blended with the wind making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. 

He'd been following the uneven line of shipyards for some days now. No particular reason why except it kept him from roaming in circles.

A chilled wind blew. It gusted off from the east, bringing the snap of frigid waves and scent of brine along with it. It bit through the meager fabric of his sorry excuse for outer wear and nipped at his shivering flesh. Where exposed, his skin was icy and numb. He shifted his shoulders closer, pulling on the collar to cover his cheeks a little better. The brim of his hat hung low over his dark eyes; keeping his face in shadows.

The setting sun had painted the dull gray skies above in long streaks of sober tones. Gray and grayer. It was appropriate colors for a funeral. It matched the death of his spirit perfectly.

He paused as the last graffiti covered boxcar of one long lumbering train finally gave way. Steel on steel squealed and shrieked. The thunderous clanking and clacking and rhythmic whooshing of the pistons filled the air around him then left his ears ringing in its wake. He waited. Glanced over his shoulder. The field of metal rails and uneven wooden slates remained as it was while he passed through. Desolate and empty. A few leaves scattered across the ground; as hard and as brittle as he felt inside.

The wind blew again and it brought with it the distant rough voices of the wandering men that haunted these lonely places. The warm sounds of a harmonica ebbed and flowed. If he were lucky, they'd give him something to eat. Most likely, there'd be no food. But they'd share some of the bitter, stinging drink they passed around members of their ragtag clan. And that would be fine, as well.

He wasn't that hungry after all. Hadn't been for days.

His eyes scanned the apparently lifeless expanse behind him. But he knew it was anything but. He sensed his brother. He knew he was there. Had been following him for a few miles now. Probably hungry and tired at this point. With a huff he turned.

Maybe he'd get tired enough to let him go on in peace.

* * *

The fire crackled and the warmth it brought gave him little comfort. But it did it's job and kept back the creeping darkness. He pulled an apple, mealy and soft, from one pocket. He bit into it and swallowed. The soft flesh just about melted into applesauce with each bite. He lifted the bottle wrapped in a brown bag to his lips and washed away the overripe flavor with one that was much more bitter. The alcohol warmed him as it went down and it was good to feel something.

He sat hunched in front of his pathetic excuse for a camp fire. The yellow flames licked along the bits of wood he'd scavenged. Some of the smaller twigs snapped and popped as the fire ate through them.

The yellow changed to orange. The bright orange of his baby brother's mask. Bright orange once, but his memory now only recalled the color it turned as the thick blood soaked into the fabric. He pushed away the memory. Shoved it down hard and deliberate. Brought the bottle up and drank deeply. The memory twisted and faded as his vision blurred. He blinked. It blurred again with the tears that wouldn't fall.

They'd build and blind, but were never set free.

He thought then that maybe his brother had caught up to him. Almost wished he had. Almost.

He glanced out beyond the glow of the fire. Shadows flickered among the bare branches of the bushes and trees where he'd taken his shelter after begging some food from the homeless men near the railroad tracks. They'd invited him to stay and take comfort in some company, share a tale or two. But he'd begged off; preferring solitude and isolation to nurse his pain over the camaraderie of strangers who'd turn on him the moment he removed his hat. Besides the tales he knew could never be shared with anyone anyway. They'd keep; locked within his mind until his flesh melted into the ground and then; who knows, maybe they'd slip into the winter winds and whisper among the pine needles.

His vision blurred again. The line of trees in front of him leered and wavered. The shadows played along the trunks of the trees but no sign of his brother. Maybe he'd been imagining that he sensed him earlier. Maybe he'd given up and gone back. April and Casey could take him in. April always said they were welcome.

Why would he want to follow him, anyway? No, he probably was never there to begin with. Right now, it wouldn't matter if the Shredder himself was stalking him. He was too drunk to try to sense anything more than the warmth in his stomach and the swaying of his head. The fire turned red and his wandering thoughts came back to his brother.

_When was the last time I talked to him?_

He scrunched up his face while he recollected. Ten days? No, it had been longer than that. It was soon after the funeral at Casey's farmhouse. He'd packed that evening but left his bag on the porch and had to run back to get it like an idiot. He snorted softly.  _Real nice. Smooth._  

For the one who'd always had a plan, he sure screwed that up.

* * *

His brother was on the porch, standing in the yellow light coming in through the screen door from the kitchen beyond. His arms were crossed over his chest. Crickets sang merrily in the hedge surrounding the wrap around porch. An owl hooted in the forest behind him; it's call sounding haunting and foreboding in the darkness.

"Goin' somewhere, Fearless?"

Leonardo stood at the base of the porch steps dressed in pants, a thick sweatshirt and trench coat. He shifted his feet a little; the heavy boots uncomfortable; eyeing his brother warily. His gaze shot to the pack he'd left next to the porch swing where he had sat several hours earlier; wrestling with his decision to leave.

Raphael's eyes traveled to the pack. He moved one foot and with the top of his bare foot slid it closer to the edge of the steps.

"Never thought you'd be the one ta run."

Running? Is this what this was? When someone runs isn't usually because there's something to run from? There was nothing behind him. There was nothing to flee from. Only the words.

The words that cut and sliced with more deadly accuracy than his blades ever could.

* * *

The flames from the candles were making him dizzy. The shadows rose and fell on the walls; rose and fell as the flames danced frantically. Master Splinter had lit every candle in his room it seemed. They burned all around him. None burning as brightly as the fire inside his father's eyes as he stared at him; through him.

"You promised me you would protect them. As eldest, it was your duty to keep them _safe_."

Even despite his raw grief, his Sensei withheld outward signs of emotional frailty. He held everything inside. To show emotion was to reveal weakness. As he'd been taught by the strict rat. Everything soft and forgiving was hidden away from Leonardo. Everything except his disappointment. His fury. His disgust in Leonardo's complete and tragic failure.

His voice was a whispering whine that make his stomach twist with repulsion. His own tears shamed him but he couldn't make them stop from rolling down his face; adding more humiliation to the weight pressing down upon him from his father's burning eyes. Each tear that fell only served to disappoint and repulse his father more. He felt as if his father counted each one that slipped free.

"M-Master…I…I tried. I…I n-never s-saw the Hun set the explosives. The ninjas s-swarmed. They overran us. There were so many…I thought…I had a s-solid p-plan…"

"And yet, on the battlefield when things shifted and changed for the worse as you were trained your entire life to be prepared for, you remained so locked on your foolish initial strategy, you allowed Michelangelo and Donatello to advance into the warehouse. The warehouse you knew was filled with munitions. Instead of retreating you bullied forward with your plan!" he shouted.

In a quiet voice he added, "Your inflexibility and stubborn will sent your brothers to their graves."

His breath hitched with a sob and he felt his heaving chest caving in from the crushing pressure. He rubbed his sweat soaked palms against the tops of his thighs where he knelt shaking from head to toe.

"I…I am s-s…sorry, fa…father."

Master Splinter's eyes flashed at him. "Your apologies will not bring my children back to me," he snapped and Leonardo flinched back and cringed as another sob broke from his throat. "You should have protected them," his voice cracked and Leonardo's face shot up.

He couldn't believe his blurry eyes. The tears that he had never see before streamed down the sides of his father's face. Leonardo rose and stood on trembling legs. He stepped two steps to bridge the gap between them, reaching for his father with shaking hands; looking to comfort him; looking for forgiveness. His fingertips brushed Master Splinter's shoulders when he lurched away.

"No," he barked hoarsely, "Do not touch me. Leave me to suffer this pain that you have brought me."

When Leonardo only continued to stand; reaching meekly into the air towards his father.

Splinter slapped his hands away. Then turned his back on him.

"Get out of my sight."

Leo dropped his stinging hands; turned and fled. Shaming himself further, a strangled cry broke from his throat as he went. He stumbled through the living room; ignoring the pizza box with the congealed food untouched; the game controller laying where Mikey had dropped it on the floor when they got the call from April alerting them to the ninjas' activity at the warehouse; ignoring the light still on in Donatello's now quiet lab; the door still ajar. Whatever he was working on to remain forever unfinished. Leo scrambled past the dojo; running from the sounds of his only living brother pounding the punching bag and screaming his pain out in the empty expanse of their training room.

Hours and hours later, exhausted and yet resigned to withstand whatever words his father had left to lash his heart with, he returned; hollow and numb, stoic and humbled. Their home was eerily quiet as he crept through the room. Raphael suddenly appeared, stepping out from a shadow.

"Where have you been?" Raphael's voice sounded strained.

"I…had to get some air. Master Splinter…"

"Leo, when you left . . ." his voice faltered. His face crushed into an expression of pain that startled Leonardo from his own misery.

"Raph, it's okay."

Raphael shook his head. His pitiful wavering voice sounded like someone else. His brother never sounded weak. Never.

"No, no, bro. It ain't. It ain't."

With a limp arm and shaking fingers his brother gestured to their father's room. Leonardo's face shot to the paneled door. It stood open. Darkness flowed from the depths of the interior. He felt the world shift and tilt as he stepped towards the open door to his father's room.

_This isn't happening._

The doorway looking more and more like a gaping maw of some nightmarish beast.

"Father?" he called out in a frightened voice.

_This isn't happening. Not now. Not after just losing them. He took two more steps and the sound of Raphael's sob from behind him nearly brought him to his knees._

"Father?"

_This couldn't be happening._

"FATHER!"

He screamed as he finally reached the door; leaning on the frame, but unable to go any deeper into the room. His eyes frantically scanned the dim interior. Until they found him. Laying still and peaceful on his bed. He looked like he was sleeping.

The world tilted too far for Leonardo to manage standing any longer and the filthy ground beneath his feet suddenly rose up and violently kissed his cheek.

* * *

Leonardo stared up at his brother's black silhouette looming over him; scowling down at him from the porch.

No. There was nothing he was running from. Because there was nothing behind him. Only the words. And those he couldn't escape. He could make out his brother's amber eyes glittering in the darkness of the evening. Piercing and hot; they seared holes into him; through him.

His eyes dropped back to his bag; a black lump besides Raphael's foot. He took a step closer and reached for the bag. Before he could touch it, Raphael kicked the bag at him. It flew into his face and he caught it clumsily; falling back; but righting himself.

"Who needs ya anyway?" he snapped. The hurt plain in his voice. The betrayal wrought by his older brother's abandonment.

He turned his back on him and slammed the screen door.

* * *

A hand shook his shoulder and he brushed it away with a feeble attempt. The hand came back and shook him more aggressively.

His eyes fluttered open and the light shot through and blasted his throbbing brain. He grimaced and dimly realized someone was with him. He cracked his eye open and it rolled around as he tried to find his hidden guest. A familiar scent of home washed over him and a wave of debilitating pain shot through his heart.

He closed his eyes.

A white bag of fast food was thrown down in front of his snout. The heady rich scent of bacon and cheese; the salty sharp smell of ham and creamy eggs wafted through his nostrils. His stomach growled; demanding the food.

He pushed against the ground and sat up. The side of his face was littered with embedded gravel and dirt. He brushed some of it away and winced.

"Figured it's been a while since you ate anythin'."

Raphael crouched on the other side of what was left of his fire. He poked at it with the end of a long stick. He raised his amber eyes to his brother and considered him with a look that was a mix of pity and disgust.

Leonardo shrugged. The movement sent a wave of pounding pain parading through his skull. "Couple days," he rasped. His throat was parched and aching from the alcohol. His tongue a fuzzy thick ball of wool; clumsy and thick in his mouth. A rotten after taste laid at the back of his throat that he fought to ignore or else his stomach would lurch, threatening to make the taste much worse if what he drank last night came up this morning.

Raphael shook his head. "God, Leo." He looked away. "You tryin' ta kill yourself? Cuz there's easier ways than exposure and starvation, you know."

Leonardo opened the bag and the smell overwhelmed him. His stomach clenched and rumbled painfully. Raphael saw how his hands trembled as he unwrapped the food. He started to devour the small sandwiches in large bites. Raphael wondered exactly how many days had his brother gone without any nourishment other than the empty bottle of cheap hooch he found next to him.

"Easy, bro. It'll just come back up if you down it like that."

Head down, eyes raised, Leo nodded to his brother and slowed down, but it was hard. Harder than he thought it would be. His hands only shook harder as he forced himself to bite, chew and swallow slower.

Raphael produced a styrofoam cup of black coffee when he finished. Leonardo took it in both his hands and stared down at the plastic lid. Unable to meet his brother's eyes.

"Thank you."

"I didn't just come out here to feed the wildlife."

Leonardo glanced at him.

"I want you to come back home with me."

Even before he was finished speaking the sentence, Leo was shaking his head. The movement was painful, but he ignored the discomfort.

"There is no home to go back to."

"What are you talking about?"

Leo met his eyes and Raph's mouth snapped shut. After a few moments of awkward silence, Raph went on. "Leo, it wasn't your-"

Leonardo clenched his eyes tightly closed. "Don't," he snapped. "Don't go there. We both know who gave the orders in that alley." Raphael stared at the stick in his hand with an intensity of a professor examining a rare artifact. "We both know who sent them . . . to their graves."

Raphael threw the stick and stood up with a growl. "Dammit, Leo." He paced in a circle, grinding his teeth.

Leonardo stood up, the coffee sloshed and spilled as he dropped the cup. His voice rose, as he shouted, "I did! It was  _my_  plan, it was  _my_  call. I should have called the retreat. There was no way my plan could've worked with that many . . ."

"You didn't know for crying out loud, Leo. None of us knew there'd be that many. It never went down like that before. Never. I mean, what the hell were they all doing there?"

"It doesn't matter, Raph. I let them . . . down." His voice cracked, "Mikey, Don . . . Sensei. I let them die."

"No! Master Splinter's death had nothing to do with you."

" _Bullshit! Bullshit, Raph!_  The stress from losing two of his children . . . you can't lie and make this all better. You can't fix this by being angry . . . You can't bring them back and neither can I!"

"That's true," Raphael crossed his arms. Leonardo saw the tears, thin and nearly invisible streaming down his brother's face. "You can't bring them back. I can't, neither. You know what else I can't do?"

Leonardo shifted; stuffed his hands into his pockets of the wrinkled coat.

"I can't live in peace knowin' my big brother's out here, somewhere, starvin' himself and . . . and . . . what am I supposed to do?" He looked at Leonardo helplessly. "I need ya, bro. If you leave me, then . . . what's left?"

Leonardo felt the lump form in his throat. He looked away. Moved his gaze out of the raw pleading path of his brother's eyes.

"I thought it would be for the best. I…I thought you'd go…live with April 'n Casey. I th-thought you'd want to be rid of me." He choked out the last part, "I thought that's what you'd want."

Raphael shook his head. He moved around the cooling embers of the fire. He moved to take Leonardo's shoulders in his hands. Leo flinched away, but Raphael held him still.

"I want what's left of my family."

Leonardo's voice was a strained whisper suddenly, his eyes stormy with pain, "H-He told m…me…" Leonardo's voice hitched, his throat worked furiously and he struggled to keep his gaze turned away from Raphael.

"Leo, he was distraught. He just lost two of his kids. He didn't mean it. Whatever he said to you. It was the pain, the…the grief talkin'." Raphael gave his shoulders a small shake. "I know he loved you. I wouldn't have been so jealous if I thought he hated ya."

"B-But, I… _can't_ …"

"Please, Leo. I…can't get through this on my own. You're the only family I got left. I…I need my brother."

Leonardo stood shaking his head, not looking at him.

"I'll just keep followin' ya, bro. No matter where you go. No matter how far. You're all I've got left and I ain't letting you go. I swear to god, bro."

Ashamed, the building tears that refused to spill for so many days, now rose and overflowed from the rims of his eyes. The grief and pain swept through him then and he collapsed into his younger brother's strong arms. Shuddering and sobbing they held each other until the storm passed.

Sniffling, they broke away from each other and stood awkwardly rubbing the tears from their faces with the back of hands and their shoulders.

Finally, Leonardo broke the silence, "But, I…can't go back there, Raph. Maybe never."

"S'okay. I didn't think you'd want to. I'm not sure I do. I, uh, borrowed Casey's truck and have some things packed up. In case of, I dunno, like a long road trip, or somethin'."

Leonardo blinked as this information sank in.

"Look, wherever, it doesn't matter, right?" He stared into Leonardo's eyes. Leonardo could see the nervous hope flickering there along with his fear. "As long as you don't ditch me again, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Raphael gave a shaky laugh and clapped Leonardo on the shoulder as they turned. "Okay."

The two brothers walked side by side along the lonely stretches of steel tracks and uneven wooden boards. Neither spoke. All that had been said, had been said.

Silently, they took what comfort they could from each other's presence. The expanse stretched out around them and before them. The chilled wind brought the broken wail of a harmonica in the distance. What lay ahead they didn't know. But together, they could face just about anything.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Rants? Need a tissue? ;')
> 
> In response to my one poor upset reader (was a guest so I can't PM) regarding Splinter, my take on him sometimes is definitely hard and cruel, but the point was the extreme moment of terrible grief made him speak so harshly to Leo, never getting the chance to amend his reaction.
> 
> But! hang tight little RatDaddy fans, I have a heart-breaking turtle tot story in the works and kind, loving, gentle-hearted Splinter is . . . GASP! A hero in this multi-chapter! And an evil, sadistic enemy has the tots in his clutches ;D
> 
> Maybe it's the guilt for writing him so mean, but I will make it up to him, I promise...go on to "What Makes a Father" if you dare...posting on AO3 soon!


End file.
